It Matters Where You Go
by Kabanga
Summary: A spoilt young pure-blood and a carefree young muggle-born meet on the Hogwarts Express. What could possibly go wrong? My very first Hogwarts story ever!
1. Chapter 1

**It Matters Where You Go**

**Chapter 1 August - Beatrice**

A rather extravagant and unusual house sat at the top of a hill just outside Chudleigh. It had sweeping lawns, ancient trees, even a small window on the upper floor through which passers by would swear they had seen birds swooping. But that was all they would see, they rarely, if ever, caught a glimpse of the residents... Most often it was the daughter playing outside, a plump, fair haired child, who, in the opinion of the villagers, spent far too much time up the trees for a child of a _respectable _family. Not to mention there was never any sign of the parents. Yes, it was agreed that the family that lived in Shortedge House were far from normal, but it seemed as if their money paid for everything, from the restoration of the church they never attended, to the refurbishment of the school their child didn't attend, so the villagers left the family from their prying. If anybody could afford to be left alone, it was the Feeneys.

"Really, Daddy, it should have arrived by now,"

A girl sat at the breakfast table, her elbows rested on the table, and she cradled her chin in her hands. She was around 11 years old, with neat blonde curls and a rather round face, as well as sparkling blue eyes. She wore pyjamas, pink checked trousers and a plain pink long-sleeved top. Across the polished wooden table sat the man who was presumably her father, he was a plump man with a pleasant face, rather balding and with a moustache that didn't exactly suit him, but didn't distract the eye either. He drew a long, thin stick from the pocket of his black pinstriped robes and tapped his teacup, it rattled gently in its saucer as the spoon suddenly came to life, stirring it as the milk poured itself into the brown liquid that was appearing inside, the little girl watched, fascinated.

"Now Beatrice, be patient," His voice was stern, but his grey eyes sparkled as he spoke, "We haven't yet had the post for this morning, now, eat up."

As he spoke, a small creature with large ears, a wrinkled face and what appeared to be a crisp bedsheet wrapped around it appeared by the table. It was a house elf. She bowed extravagantly and presented a plate of toast and jam to Beatrice, the girl thanked the elf who smiled in return, "Most welcome, Mistress Feeney."

"Thank you Velda," The man nodded approvingly as he received his own toast and eggs, "Has the post arrived yet?"

"Velda believes she glimpsed an owl in the distance as she was coming through."

The house elf barely had a chance to finish the sentence, Beatrice shot from her chair and out of the room, leaving her toast and a hasty 'Please excuse me, Daddy!".

She ran as fast as she could up the stairs, crossing her fingers as the went and whispering under her breath.  
The room she entered was large and spacious, with stone walls and wooden floor, and wooden beams across the ceiling, although much of the floor was scattered with feathers and curious grey pellets, rather like hairballs. She ran straight to the window and popped it open, fluttering in the distance was a rather strange flock of birds. As they came closer, it was clear they were owls. They landed on the windowsill, one tawny owl held in its claws a newspaper, "Daddy is downstairs," she told the owl, which stared at her in a manner which, had it not been an owl, might have looked disdainful, and went to sit in the beams.

The second owl she recognised as her mother's owl, Chess, a tall, handsome snowy owl, so named for the black check-like marks across her body. She carried a thick, important looking letter, and she swooped off through the house in search of her mistress.

The third owl clattered its beak importantly, it was a plump little barn owl, and in its talons was a thick, yellowish envelope. She reached out to take it and as she did so, the owl fluttered away. She barely noticed, her hands were shaking as she read the neat, businesslike lettering on the front.

_Beatrice Feeney_

_Shortedge House_

_Chudleigh_

_Devon_

Without even stopping to open it, she barrelled down the stairs, nearly flattening the house elf in the process.

"Daddy, Daddy it came!" She shrieked, waving the letter at him ecstatically, he beamed back at her, standing up and sweeping her into a hug. "Well done darling, I told you it would arrive sooner or later, shall we open it...?"

–

It was with some trepidation that Beatrice climbed the stairs to her mother's room, almost unconsciously she held her breath as she gently knocked, one could never judge the mood of Mrs Feeney from the other side of a door.

A thin woman with olive skin and dark brown hair, that fell in ringlets to her shoulders, answered the door, "Ah, Beatrice," she said, and smiled, instantly her face lit up and became far more pleasant.

"Mummy, I must show you, my letter arrived, it finally arrived!"

"Oh darling that's wonderful," Mrs Feeney kissed her daughter on the cheek, "Let me see, let me read,", she glanced at the letter, "Oh, Hogwarts, I thought I'd never see..." She didn't finish the thought before changing to a new train of thought, "We must go to Diagon Alley, you'll need a wand, and books and a cauldron, and-"

"Hogwarts robes!" Beatrice grinned gleefully, "Oh, Mummy, could I have an owl too? You and Daddy have owls, and I simply _must _have an owl to write home."

Beatrice never failed to be awed by Diagon Alley. In every way it contrasted everything she knew in her home. Tidy, manicured, constantly attended by house elves, that was the home she knew, Diagon Alley was the opposite. Dirty, muddled, crowded. Full of strange smells and sounds and sights. As they passed through The Leaky Cauldron a moment earlier she saw a burst of green fire under the mantlepiece as a couple and their son arrived by Floo powder and she had turned to look. Her mother had sniffed at that, for they had arrived by apparition. 'Far better than dirtying ourselves with ashes' she had told Beatrice. The family did seem rather ash-smeared as they brushed themselves off.

The cobbled streets of Diagon Alley refreshed the little bubble of excitement that had been threatening to burst inside Beatrice since she first saw her acceptance letter. She was _really_ going to Hogwarts!

Their first stop was Madam Malkin's. Beatrice could see from the moment she stepped in this would be pure torture. Madam Malkin bustled out from behind the door to the rear of the shop, and smiled, "My goodness, young Miss Feeney, it can't be your turn already!" She beamed, "Come on dear, step up on this stool, and we'll get you measured,". Beatrice gave her a forced smile as she stepped up.

_Imagine,_ Beatrice thought to herself crossly, as she was stretched and measured and poked, _making children stand so still when there is so much to __**do**_.

She gazed out the window as the robes were measured and Madam Malkin began making adjustments. The older witch chatted absent-mindedly, although Beatrice mostly ignored her. She could see older students grouping, marching from shop-to-shop buying their supplies, she could see children younger than her dragging their parents to look at broomsticks and owls, she even saw some nervously waving wands in the window of Ollivander's, first-years, surely.

"Beatrice, are you even listening?"

Her mother's sharp tone brought her back from her observations.  
"Sorry, Mummy," She apologised quickly, Madam Malkin was kneeling by her ankles, adjusting the hem of her robes. She glanced up and repeated what had clearly been her question.

"Are you looking forward to going to Hogwarts?"

"Oh yes," Beatrice gushed earnestly, "I've been looking forward to it since... forever! Daddy has always loved to show me magic, and as soon as I knew I could do it too I've been waiting for my letter to come, Daddy has told me everything, about the feasts and the Sorting, and the Forbidden forest, and-"

"Don't forget your lessons too, my dear," Madam Malkin chuckled, "Sorting eh? Which House do you think you'll be in?"

Beatrice opened her mouth to answer, but her mother cut in sharply, "Beatrice will be in Ravenclaw," She sniffed, "Feeneys are a long line of Ravenclaws, and the Druants on my side, it's what's expected of her."

Madam Malkin's smile faltered momentarily, before she smiled and nodded, "Oh, yes, it often runs in families, I was a Hufflepuff myself, clearly not as bright as the Ravenclaws," She tittered, "Oh, I remember in my second year, I met a Ravenclaw boy, Jacob, and he used to tell me that old Professer Kettleburn was keeping..."

Beatrice had stopped listening, she was thinking about the Sorting... would her mother really be so terribly cross if she was placed in the wrong house? What if she was a Hufflepuff, like Madam Malkin...? Or worse, her knees nearly trembled at the thought, what if she were a Slytherin?

She imagined her parents turning up at school to take her away, her mother tutting and shaking her head in shame at her daughter not being a Ravenclaw... her father's sparkling eyes sad and disappointed. No, she made up her mind, she would argue with the hat and _force_ it to put her in Ravenclaw.

"And that's you done, dear"

Madam Malkin waved her wand, and the newly fitted robes swept off Beatrice's body and folded themselves neatly in a box, Beatrice jumped down thankfully, eager to head on to the next shop.

"Come _on_ Mummy," she urged, "Let's go to the bookshop next, or the apothecary..."

Eventually, her mother paid, and Beatrice charged ahead. They entered the bookshop, Flourish & Blotts, where Beatrice excitedly flipped through spellbooks, muttering the incantations under her breath as her mother sought out and paid for her new books.

Next to the apothecary, where Beatrice poked at the glittering beetles eyes, and peered in all the jars, wondering what each of them was, and what they did.

And so it went on, they bought scales and a cauldron, dragon hide gloves and sensible shoes, then into Ollivander's, where her usual excitement melted away into quiet nervousness, the handsome young Ollivander, taking over from his father before him, guided her through the rows, searching out the perfect wand for her. 'Maple and dragon-heartstring, eleven and a quarter inches, pleasantly springy' he had said, with a charming smile and an air of great satisfaction 'An excellent wand for Transfiguration,".

Finally, with all other items bought, "Now, Mummy," Beatrice begged, "_Please _may I get an owl,". Her mother looked tired, and rather irritated by the children charging up and down the street.

"Of course darling," She sighed, "So long as you're quick about choosing,"

Beatrice grabbed her mother's hand and practically dragged her towards Eeylop's Owl Emporium, where the darkened windows felt like they were staring out at her.

They hurried inside, and Beatrice strode the inside, peering in all the cages, wondering to herself which to buy.

_Perhaps a snowy owl, like Mummy's... or a barn owl, that's what delivered my Hogwarts letter, after all... _suddenly, one particular bird caught her eye.

"Oh Mummy, look at this one!" She called to her weary looking mother. The bird was large, round and grey, with a greyish-white, dish-shaped face and rather prominent ears, when it blinked, its eyelids were pink.

Behind her she heard a snigger, she spun around to see a boy about her own age, with dark eyes and dark hair, across the shop. He held in a small cage, the tiny grey scops owl he had just purchased, which twittered and ruffled its feathers. The boy saw her looking and, without any hint of pretense that he had been laughing at her, turned and walked out of the shop.

It took rather a lot of cajoling, convincing and begging. Beatrice's mother did not seem certain about the large, imposing bird with the long, curved talons and cruel beak, but eventually, she relented, and Beatrice proudly carried the owl out of the shop.

"Is that everything now Beatrice?" She asked, rather stiffly, as if daring her to say no. When Beatrice nodded her head, she indicated for her to hold her arm, as, with a crack like a whip, the mother and daughter, the shopping and the owl disappeared into thin air.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Wow, can't believe I've finally written the first chapter of IMWYG! That did not take me half as long to write as I thought it would!

This introduces Beatrice, who, I'll grant you, is a bit of a boring brat, which will become more evident later, especially Chapter 3 (if all goes as planned) of course, next chapter I introduce the other main character, I won't give the game away too much.

I'm intending to mostly follow Beatrice and the as yet unnamed (to you) second character through school, although I may skip a few years, because quite frankly I am not JKR and I do not think I have the motivation to write seven whole years into a story, but, you never know, maybe I'll be motivated.

Um... there'll be a lot of contrast between this chapter and the next one. I hate Diagon Alley chapters because there's always so few characters in the beginning of a story, especially with a very uptight mother. Madam Malkin was a Godsend because I want to have some interactions!

The next few chapters may be rather slow-going, as I am in the middle of my dissertation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

**August Leith**

The busy Bristol road outside roared and clattered, even as the sun was setting over the city, a greying old man stood outside, a little grey dog at the end of the lead in his hand. He glanced up at the window of the flat above him as the angry voice of a woman leaked from the second floor window, he hurried on, not wanting to be privy to the argument...

"Leith Jones, I don't know how you can sit there and lie to me,"

"Mum, I don't know what else to tell you, I didn't do it,"

A woman in a flowered dress, with greying, auburn hair, cut short but with a definite wave stood, hands on floral hips, glaring at the 11 year old boy sat in front of her. He had hair that just about reached his ears and fell untidily into his eyes, with the same wave, and dark, dark brown eyes. He slouched on the sofa sulkily as his mother bellowed.

"I don't know why you think I'd believe you over Mr Pankhurst, if he says you threw an egg at his window _seconds_ after he was finished telling you off for kicking the ball into his garden, I'm more inclined to believe him than you!"

Leith looked miserable, "I don't know what the point of even arguing is, you never believe me, of course you side with hi-"

The boy was cut off as the buzzer coughed loudly. Mrs Jones gave her son a warning stare and marched purposefully off. Despite his bad mood, Leith's ears pricked up as he heard a woman's voice on the other end.

"_Hello Mrs Jones, I'm here to speak to you about your son,"_

"Of course, come right up," Mrs Jones sighed and strode back into the living room with a face rather like a bulldog chewing on a wasp, in Leith's opinion anyway. She lowered her voice, "I don't know what you've done now, but go to your room right this second, and don't even think about coming out until I say otherwise,"

Leith huffed and slouched away into his bedroom. It was rather cramped, more of a matchbox than a bedroom, and the furniture all seemed rather old. The chest of drawers was scribbled on in felt tip on the bottom two drawers, there were stickers from old children's tv shows and comics stuck around the walls, the bed itself was blue and red, with a yellow bedspread, it all seemed rather _young_ for an eleven year old.

Leith flung himself down on his bed and strained his ears to try to hear what was happening, he heard their door open and his mother greeting someone, presumably the woman on the intercom.

He sighed and rolled onto his side, wondering who she could be. _The woman who owned the cat we chased last week, _he wondered internally, _or that old dear whose daffodils we broke when Alfie's bike brakes stopped working... _He frowned, it wasn't fair, every time anything went wrong, he got blamed for it. He really _hadn't_ thrown eggs at old Pankhurst's windows. He'd thought about it, he'd been angry enough to do it, but he hadn't thrown the eggs, he assumed it was one of the other kids in the neighbourhood, Pankhurst was always shouting at kids...

His train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door, it opened a little way, and Leith saw a stern looking old woman in a curiously pointed hat and long green robes step into the room. He wanted to say something, defend himself, but something about her face told him not to speak out of turn.

"I understand, Mr Jones, that you have been in rather a lot of trouble lately," She said finally, standing in the middle of his floor in front of where he sat on the bed.

"It's not my fault!" He burst out, "Everybody blames me, I don't know what happened, I didn't even throw the eggs at th-" But the old woman held up her hand.

"I believe you didn't mean to throw the eggs, but you did do it," Leith opened his mouth to argue, but shut it again at the look in her eye, "You see, you are a very special young man, may I sit down to explain?"

Leith nodded dumbly, the woman pulled a thin stick of wood out of her pocket, waved it once and immediately a wooden chair appeared from thin air! Leith's eyes grew large, and if he had not been so shocked he might have seen the tiniest smile on her face.

"Now, Mr Jones, my name is Professor McGonagall, I am the headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She waited for him to respond.  
"So... you think... I'm magic?" He said stutteringly.

"There's no 'think' about it," She said, with a hint of a smile, "There can be no mistake,"

"So... the rat that appeared on the teacher's desk...?" She nodded encouragingly, "And... and the eggs, and... the time Mum's hair fell out...?"

"If you wish to attend our school," She continued, "We will teach you how to control your magic, right now it's happening in bursts, you cannot control it and if left you could hurt someone, or expose the magic world to someone who isn't magic."

"I want to attend," he said, firmly, the first confident words he had spoken since she had entered, McGonagall nodded approvingly.

"And Hogwarts will be glad to have you, but you must swear not to tell anybody outside your immediate family. I have already spoken to your mother about this, I am aware your father is..." She paused, "No longer present, and we think it would be best not to involve him unless it becomes necessary," Leith nodded, she smiled a little, and continued "I feel we should go through and join your mother, and we can discuss what you shall need for school,"

...

Leith fought the urge to grab his mother's hand in apprehension as they stepped across the threshold. The friendly young barmaid in the grubby little pub had agreed to show them the passage into Diagon Alley, the place that Professor McGonagall had said most young wizards bought their supplies. The lady led them through into a small, cobbled back courtyard. She whipped out a rather short wand and, with Leith's eyes firmly glued to it, tapped one of the bricks on the wall.

Leith's mother leapt back in shock as the brick fell away and a gateway grew out of the brick. Leith's mouth dropped open, and the barmaid laughed and winked at him, "It's just a gateway from the other side, so don't worry about finding it on the way back," She said, and, with a smile, left them.

Leith was speechless, a curiously crooked street unfolded in front of them, with dozens of shoppers bustling about, most in curious cloaks and pointed hats. He tugged on his mother's hand, "Come on Mum," He said, excitedly. His mother stumbled after him, dumbfounded. Eventually she tugged the letter out of her handbag and said, stammeringly, "Um... we need to... exchange money first," Leith turned to look around, and the pair of them set off, Leith peering into every shop window at the robes and broomsticks and strange creatures within, or gazing up into the faces of every witch and wizard that hurried past him, his mother searching for anything that even resembled a bank.

After over an hour and a half of shopping, with many mistakes, including asking the assistant in the apothecary for a set of robes and nearly buying the wrong spellbooks in Flourish and Blotts, Leith and his mother were beginning to think they had maybe got the hang of this.

"What's next mum?" Leith asked, glancing a little warily at his mother. These past few days after McGonagall's visit she had been somewhat emotional. He supposed it was a bit of a shock for her but, when Leith considered his own feelings carefully, it somehow did not feel like as much of a surprise as he might have originally expected.

"Um..." His mother glanced at the list, then frowned and squinted, as if expecting to have read the item incorrectly, "A wand...?"

As they made their way into Ollivander's, the excitement that had been writhing in Leith's stomach fell still. The shop was dusty and still, the only light coming from a single candle and a cloudy, half-blocked window.

"Good morning," A tall young man, with light brown hair tied into a ponytail and smart brown robes stepped out from the back room. He appraised Leith with a glance and inclined his head slighly to the pair of them, "Your first wand, I presume,".

Leith and his mother nodded dumbly, as the man hunted through the shelves, "I am Mr Ollivander, the younger of course, my father retired last year," He said as he rifled through boxes, "Now, muggle-born, am I right?"

Leith glanced at his mother, "I'm sorry, what?" He asked, as politely as he could, Mr Ollivander seemed friendly, but there was an intimidating air of age about this shop.

"Your mother, and your father," Ollivander said, as he placed a bundle of long boxes on the counter, "Are not magical people,".

"Oh, no, it's just me," Leith said, nodding.

Ollivander was silent for a moment, before opening one of the boxes and withdrawing a wand, not dissimilar to the one McGonagall and the barmaid had used earlier. He gently handed it to Leith, who took it. Ollivander smiled, "Give it a wave, and don't worry, the muggle-born folk are sometimes the best wizards,"

Leith waved the wand. Nothing happened.

"Not to worry," Ollivander assured him, "We'll find one in the end,"

It took almost forty five minutes. Leith was strongly reminded of shoe-shopping with his mother, it seemed to go on forever, and he had no idea what Mr Ollivander was searching for, he was growing more and more weary of having a wand placed into his hand, only to be whisked away again and replaced, when suddenly,"

"I've got it!" Mr Ollivander exclaimed in glee, as he whipped yet another box off the shelf and placed it on the counter. He pulled out a fine, reddish brown wand and handed it to Leith, "Cherry and phoenix feather, 12 ¾ inches, supple, a very lovely wand."

Almost immediately, a shower of green and silver sparks spurted from the tip of the wand, Mr Ollivander smiled, "I knew we'd get there, you have a fine wand."

...

They were reaching the end of their trip, and the final item on the list.

"Each student may bring, if they wish, an owl, a cat or a toad." Mrs Jones read slowly. She had somewhat adjusted to the strangeness of her son's shopping list throughout the day, but occasionally items would surprise her.

Leith's eyes lit up, "Cool!" He said, gleefully, peering through the numbers of witches and wizards for anything that looked like it might sell owls or toads.

Eventually, they came across Eeylops Owl Emporium. Nervously, in case they were making some kind of mistake, they entered. The shop was dark, small candles burned on the walls, so the majority of the shop was cloaked in semi-darkness, all around there were cages of owls of every shape and colour. Tiny little pygmy owls, gazing with huge eyes at them as they passed, huge eagle owls ('experienced owners only') rattling the bars of the cage with their beaks.

"How much money do we have left, mum?" Leith asked, eyes wide.

"Um... twenty of the ga... gal... gold ones?" She said peering at the coins in her pocket "about twenty of the sickley-ones and... um... a lot of the bronze ones?"

Leith moved away from the tawny he had been looking wistfully at, with a price of 30 galleons dangling on his cage, when he spotted a little grey bird blinking stoically at him from across the shop with big, orange eyes.

"How much for that one?" He asked his mother, pointing at the bird. They were making their way over when a shopkeeper appeared, he was a short little man with a round face and not much whispy white hair covering his head, he blinked through square spectacles at them and said, "Oh yes, the little Scops, he's thirteen galleons,"

"But," Leith began, peering at the owl, "His tag says he's 25,"

The shopkeeper stammered, "Oh yes, yes, he's just gone on sale today, not changed the tag yet,"

As Mrs Jones went to the counter to pay for the little owl, Leith was left standing with the owl's cage in his hand. He was just trying to think of a name for his owl, when the bell above the door rang gently, and a woman and her daughter entered the shop. The woman was tall and well-dressed, and the girl had blonde curls and was wearing a pink skirt and white shirt. Leith wrinkled his nose slightly as she called her 'Mummy' over to look at a tawny bird.

He watched the girl darting around the shop, peering at all the owls, and he quietly formed the image of a rather rich and spoiled young girl about to go to school for the first time. He rather hoped they didn't share classes.

"Oh, Mummy, look at this one!," the girl shouted, making the Scops owl in Leith's hand jump in his cage and stare.

Leith sniggered derisively, the girl had confirmed his suspicion, as the owl she had picked out carried a price tag of almost 50 galleons, the most expensive bird in the shop. The girl turned and stared at him, and he looked unashamedly back.

"Leith, time to go," his mother called from the doorway, and Leith turned and, with the little scops owl in his hand, left the shop.

And by the time they had reached the gateway out of Diagon Alley, he had forgotten all about the girl.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Phew! I am so sorry this update was so late! I have now done my dissertation, I only have half an assignment and two exams left to do before I have finished university forever and ever and that is sad!

However, it will mean that aside from having a proper job I will have plenty of time to work on this. Expect it to be a little while before the next chapter, which will probably be quite long.

It's unlikely there will be many chapters from Leith's point of view after this, it will mostly be Beatrice's viewpoint, but you never know, we'll see how it goes.

Hope you enjoy, be nice please, this is my first ever Hogwarts story :)


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